From the Ashes
by billffire
Summary: Harry dreams of Voldemort descending into a tomb, somewhere beneath the Atlantic Ocean. Somewhere in that forgotten place the Dark Lord is searching for something that lies in the ruins of Atlantis. Something that caused the civilization's fall.


The air was damp in his dream, moldy and old, ancient smells now being stirred into the air as the procession of darkly cowled men walked resolutely through the narrow cavern. Their way was lit by points of light emitting from their wands, held aloft to show them how to step, the rock floor beneath them far from even. There were seven figures in all. All of varying ages, hair colors, and intents. Yet, one thing drew them onward; the burning need of their master's will.

He was ahead of them, his white skin shining in the darkness, his blood-red eyes shining with fervor. His was the only wand unlit, his bare feet walking along without loss of balance, or even feeling the sharp edges or loose rock he stepped upon. The booted followers tried to keep pace, a nervousness creeping into their systems involuntarily. Most thought they knew what evil was, knew what power was. They thought they had reached it with their own corrupted souls, but this ancient and unknown tomb had their evil hearts beating warily.

Among them was a lad too young to be out of school, but he accompanied them in his father's wake, a weak show of bravado his only defense in a place his innocent mind told him to flee from. It was a shame his pride would lead him further into the bowels of this system of caves.

Voldemort disappeared ahead of them to the alarms of the followers, their footsteps stopped as before them lay a curtain of darkness and shadow not penetrated by the light of their wands.

Voldemort's form appeared like a thinly garbed wisp from that shadow with a look of disgust on his thin and tightly drawn face. "Follow." He said, his voice whispering fear into their hearts.

He turned again and was gone. None hesitated in following, becoming swallowed by that maul of black.

They emerged from the forever void with gasping breathes and images of hell dancing in their minds. The blonde-haired lad was gripping his aunt's hand, shaking from head to toe. Bellatrix darted a quick glance to her Lord, before patting the child and giving him back his wand. She let go his hand and gave him a stern look, reminding him to show no weakness. He gulped and nodded, trying to gain control of his feeble muscles.

She herself had not liked the images forced into her mind by passing through that veil of shadow, she could only imagine what the other's had seen. She cast a glance to Luscious, but his passive mask was still in place; he almost seemed unaffected by that trial. One day she would see his façade fall and on that day she would laugh in his face.

"Come along….come along…" Came the hurried whispers of their Lord; they had mingled together after exiting and tried to collect themselves. At his impatient tone they picked their pace up again and trodded after him, weary of other ancient protections afforded to this place.

They walked on and passed through a haze of that gave them a desire to kill and a desire to die. Only with Voldemort's hysterical laughter had they passed that trial without succumbing to the compulsions.

The next trial for them to pass had left the young Malfoy heir gripping his stomach with pain. He gasped he was fine, but a wave of Voldemort's wand had righted the boy. Luscious saw the look his Dark Lord had cast on his son, and it had him worried. For a moment, it seemed Lord Voldemort looked ready to devour Draco with glee.

Finally the way before them stopped, for blocking their path was a rock wall. Apparently, they could go no further. Voldemort _giggled _as he pacedthe length of the cave, his steps hurried and erratic, an uncommon eagerness taking hold of him. Then he stopped and whirled upon them, a sadistic giddy light shining in his eyes.

Luscious saw Dolohov take a step back, his eyes wide with fear.

Voldemort ignored their varying reactions to his strange mood and spoke, a strong passion fueling his words. "Can you not _feel_ it? Smell it?" He took an exaggerated sniff with his nose, putting his entire body into the motion. "The air is thick with death. Pain…" He trailed as a joy came into his face. He exhaled. "It's intoxicating."

Shivers ran through his lieutenants. The very same men and woman that had tortured muggles. Killed with no discretion and left behind mad victims. The very ones that had explored their sadistic pleasures and refined their techniques. The one's whose hands were steeped in blood and pain, recoiled at the very nature of the air around them.

Voldemort's malicious smile greeted their faces. "You think you know evil? Oh no…" he cooed. "I am evil." His eyes took on a dark glint. "I have done something that has changed me forever. I have stepped to a level of darkness none of you could attempt." None knew the full damage he had wrought upon his soul. None knew the thoughts and intentions necessary for such horrible acts. They thought they knew what torture was, but none could stomach causing such damage to their very souls.

It was that which they were recoiling from. The very air reeked of bleeding souls and aching wounds that would never heal. As if a hundred souls had been dissected and sliced carefully into many pieces and then the remains left to forever haunt the damned corridors they found themselves in.

Only one who reveled in such acts could embrace it as Voldemort has. His chilling eyes swept across them as a leer came upon his face. "If I were still human…" He paused for dramatic effect. "…I'd be having an orgasm just breathing."

Their faces twisted from shock to worry. Their Lord's manic laugh afterwards did little to soothe them. They wondered again at the strange emotions emanating from a creature that kept such things hidden.

Lord Voldemort whirled to face the final barrier. He spoke, his tone thoughtful. "Magic to hide it…easily seen through. An ocean to cover it, only a deterrent for the unimaginative. A complex maze of never ending rock corridors with beasts and other such heinous traps laying in wait. Again, only a deterrent to the unimaginative. A veil of shadow for those fearing the unknown." He scoffed as if it were beneath his notice to even mention the ease with which he passed through it.

"Another barrier where one must overcome a rather ingenious compelling." He smiled. "I rather liked it. The last we passed was a lowered standard I must say. Affecting children more than adults. Save now that I see what stands before me, I understand their reasoning." His eyes flashed towards Draco, before again settling across them all.

Luscious felt something was going to happen and it involved his son. He glanced towards Draco and moved forward, his hand coming up to put his son behind him. He was too late, Voldemort's wand was raised as the child's body was summoned forward. Luscious let out a cry, matching Draco's own.

Voldemort's voice boomed over both of theirs. "Hold the father!" He commanded as Draco's flight ended with him being held in the air, Voldemort's skeletal hands around his soft neck, keeping him aloft.

Luscious moved forward but found hands gripping him, holding him tight. He was shocked to find Bellatrix among those holding him back. He tried to cast a spell, but his wand was removed from his hand.

"Cease struggling Luscious. You'll only make the child more scared."

Voldemort looked Draco in the eyes and watched the paralysis of fear seize his body.

"Ready to die for your Lord, boy?"

Draco quivered and a pungent aroma floated to the Dark Lord's nostrils, coming from the lad's underpants. Draco Malfoy had pissed himself.

Voldemort relished in the smell. "Ah, if fear ever smelled of something, it would be that."

Luscious plead from where he still struggled! "My Lord, I beg you…"

He was silenced by a wave of Voldemort's wand. He was jerked away from his fellows and slammed against the far wall. His body fell prone to the ground, rendered unconscious.

"Enough sniveling. Time for your purpose to be served weakling." His smiled revealed a set of pure white teeth and blood red gums.

Draco whimpered as he was unceremoniously thrust forward facing the wall, Voldemort's grip now on the back of his neck. The Dark Lord's voice rang high. "Do you see the final barrier and its genius nature? To pass one must spill the blood of an innocent; one who would willingly come down here. Willing to continue regardless of the terrors that had seen or been subjected to." His smile grew in the dim light, his eyes glowing with malice. "But oh, not just their blood must be spilled, their life must also be forfeit. And to add a little challenge, every drop of their red delicious blood must be splattered across the barrier."

He waved his wand as Draco began to regain control of his limbs, fighting back the fear that had stilled them. It was too late. Voldemort's wand was waved and a red line bloomed on Draco's throat. A second later his life's blood was sprayed across the barrier. Forever it seemed to go, every drop leaving his body until only an empty husk remained.

Voldemort gave the lifeless body a few more jerks and watched a few more drops fly outward and strike the barrier. As the last struck, the wall dissolved and he cast aside the body and strode forward. His goal was now in sight.

The death eaters had entered what looked to be a ceremonial square chamber with a raised dais in the center. It rose some twenty meters from the ground, with stairs allowing access to the metal tomb resting upon it. Voldemort was already ascending the steps. His followers trailed around the dais, looking to the pictures carved upon the walls, their wand lights illuminating a story.

Bellatrix noted what looked to be a fireball falling from the sky towards a city, with people beneath brandishing wands and screaming in terror. She followed the story, stepping forward and taking in each picture carefully, putting the vague hints together with a sharp mind. It had been her luck to start at the beginning of the tale.

The next scene showed a demon like creature with fire surrounding it, standing on the ashes of the city, broken bodies around it. Some people were bowing at its cloven feet. The next scene showed a war, great battles with giants and dragons and men with ancient armor wielding both swords and spears. A few, the leaders, waved wands.

Another scene showed a man wielding a sword that shown bright atop a horse, with the image of the world behind him. Opposite him was the fiery demon with a darkness behind him. The next showed their battle and the supposed hero's fall, his body trampled by the cloven hooves, the creature's mouth open in what she imagined was exaltation.

From there Bellatrix had circled the room most of the way. Another scene showed four babes with varying weapons arrayed around them, among them the sword from earlier. The next showed the four coming together grown and charging a now howling demon, somehow making him smaller. Then in the last scene it showed this room, with an ancient symbol above the carved picture of the dais. It was a circle, with a pentagram reversed within it. Two horns alighted the top of it.

She blinked as a memory tugged at her, some recollection from her youth. Then a name came unbidden, whether from the mark itself, somehow letting its name become known to her, or from her memories. Either one left her worried, but the name shot fear through her heart and she recoiled from the image. It seemed to gleam for a moment.

"Lucifer…" She uttered breathless.

The devil. Satan. She knew him to be a myth, but something about the air and how they came here made it seem as if the devil had once walked the earth. Then with a sunken realization she knew where they were, despite her Lord keeping them ignorant. She knew also how the land had fallen and what had caused it if her imagination and interpreting the carvings was true. Yet, how could they be real? The devil was some Christian's fanciful idea of a tormentor. Logic told her none of this story upon the walls could be real.

Logic had not existed sense they had descended into the Atlantic Ocean many hours ago. It had finally been dismissed when she had seen her Lord sacrifice her nephew to gain access to this crypt.

Again the mark seemed to gleam and this time glow; she faintly heard a deep throaty voice echoing within her mind, lulling her into further depths of insanity. She shook the effects of it away and finally pried her eyes from the symbol, instead watching the other Death Eaters watch their Lord huddled over the sarcophagus, his thin hands stroking it delicately.

She stepped forward, scared out of her mind for what lay within it. If a symbol drawn on the wall had the powers it did, just being a carving in rock, she dared not imagine the monster's capabilities. Whatever name it went by, Lucifer, Baal, or devil; its power and history was written on the walls. How it had fallen from the sky and crashed upon the ancient wizarding empire Atlantis. Where a war ensued and the world nearly perished. Where somehow, four beings came forward and defeated the demon, and in the process sunk an entire continent.

And it seemed her Dark Lord was intent on unleashing the monster again upon the world.

"My Lord!" She called.

He ignored her, his attention on trying to open the lid, his hands running along foreign glyphs beginning to glow read as he uttered an incantation.

"My Lord! We must be away!" She called frantically, not wishing to feel the fires of that hellish being. "Stop!" She cried again and she waved her wand and saw her other Death Eaters doing the same.

Now she was in a trance like the rest, words entering her mind unbidden as the complex spell woven into the carvings took hold of her and the others, her voice enough to lull them into the spell's power. The final protection against any being seeking the ashes hidden in this tomb. It had been placed in the pictures and whoever read them would feel the need to stop who ever sought to unleash the demon.

Five wands and five incantations filled the air as five green bolts of power sought their master's form. They had unleashed the only spell they knew strong enough to stop their master's will, even if they had cast it against their wills.

Their aim was true, but their timing too late.

The glyphs were bright red when Voldemort's form arced in sudden shock, his body slumping down the sarcophagus, his hands trailing pitifully as a growl rent from Hell itself filled the air. Magic of such potency whirled about and a groan soon followed that stopped every heart for a second. Then nothing and the lid fell away as the spell binding the Death Eaters as well dissipated.

In horror they ran to their master's body, his blood eyes open and lifeless. Then, with a burning curiosity they peaked into the tomb to see only ashes, not even enough of them to fill a cup. Confused looks were shared as the reality of the situation was too much for their minds to process. Bellatrix was the first to shake her head and whisper, "M-master?"

She was tentative at first in touching him, then more firmly unwilling to admit he had fallen to her own hands; hope warred within her that again he would rise from death as he had in the past. Minutes dragged on until she rose and met the same shocked and dismayed faces that was painted on her own.

What were they to do know? Why all the protections if there were only ashes left?

Then a dark shroud floated down before them, a whisper of white where a head was, the rest of the body only a faded shadow. Two dull red eyes accused them all for this betrayal and each stammered for his forgiveness. He ignored them as he drifted towards the ashes; he had known all along what had lain within.

Voldemort had known that Lucifer, the fallen angel, had died some eleven thousand years ago and his death had sunk Atlantis. He also knew that his ashes had plagued the world afterwards, so great had been his power in life, and to stop them they had been sealed away. To access that power that had once terrorized the world he would need to enter into a state of a shade, made possible by his horcruxes. To do this he had to kill himself, but his Death Eaters had solved the problem for him. He would punish them later for their weakness to that spell.

He drifted downward and his piece of soul quivered at the dormant magic dwelling in the ashes. He could taste it caressing his spirit, trying to entice him. If he could laugh he would and he gladly slipped into the murmurings, wanting it all, craving for this energy to be reborn into him. To let again the Prince of Darkness become reborn to the world of men and wizards. And he was not disappointed as the ashes swirled into his essence and all he knew from that moment on was a forever burning need to bring Hell across the globe.

Harry James Potter awoke from his dream with blood trailing down his forehead and into his eyes. His body was sweating in the throes of a massive fever and he was shaking and it felt like his blood was literally boiling. He scrambled from his bed on tottering feet and made his way to the shower where he turned on the cold water and tried to let it cool his body. For the moment it worked and slowly the fever and heat subsided until he was shivering under the water.

Still he dared not move as an unreal fear had taken hold of him. His dream had ended in a finality that he was unaccustomed to when it came to dreams from the Dark Lord. This one had somehow felt that it was the last; implying that something had happened to their connection. He dared not think further on it.

A trembling hand came up to his scar and felt the fresh wound. With the water running he was unsure if it still bled. For the moment, he was not concerned about it.

Finally, after his Uncle thumped against the wall yelling something unintelligible did Harry step from the shower. He dried himself and walked to the mirror to see his scar. It still trickled blood, but was healing. A symbol was suddenly blazed into his mind. With a curious hand he traced the same symbol on the mirror and watched a red fire alight where his fingers had trailed. For a second it burned there before vanishing and leaving just a mirror.

Harry suppressed a shudder, trying to understand how just a symbol could hold such magic. The closest his mind could categorize it was that it was something like a rune, but with rune's one had to put magic behind them and they had to be carved.

Then a name came to him and a fear welled up within the pit of stomach. Lucifer. He fought down the fear and went to his room where he wrote to paper what had transpired in the dream. Every detail he tried to convey, though he knew most was now only a blurry fog to him. He attempted to write the symbol, but refrained unsure of what would occur. Instead, he described it. With a final flourish he signed his name and Hedwig was out his window and disappearing into the night.

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**A/N::** Hmm...yes I would have to say that this is alternate universe material. Ispiration came from several sources that I can't recall...but the idea that Atlantis was an ancient Wizard Empire is not original so I won't claim it is. The Devil thing falling and ending it, to my knowledge, as not been done yet. So, thus far not much to say except I hope you enjoyed thus far. Leave a little review if you like what you read.


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